Tag: modes of healing in adoption

Note: ICAV does not condone the use of illegal substances. This post is shared in the spirit of highlighting how everyone finds different pathways to healing and the depths of the trauma in relinquishment.

One high dose trip changed everything for me. I wish I did it 20 years ago. When I thought there was no other way, I managed to still have a little bit of imagination and curiosity to wonder if there existed another way – other than self destruction. I never thought I’d still be here. I don’t think I’m out of the woods yet though. I’m still processing the experience at both a conscious and subconsious level which will take some time.

Yesterday was 6 months to the day since I tried a mushroom trip. I reflect on it a lot, and just thinking about the experience is emotional. But I really think I only started on the road to healing after the trip. Afterwards, it was a similar feeling to when someone close to you dies, like a sadness or loss, but it also felt like a completion of something. It makes sense that the healing part of trauma can’t commence until the origin of the trauma is faced and I think that’s what the trip did for me. Now I have to be patient. Before the pain was vague and diffuse, dragging me down. Now it’s stark and in front of me.

As like the clinical trials that I’d researched before embarking on this journey, as soon as I could, I wrote down my self reflections and observations of what I could recollect from the trip and then for a couple of days after. Here is an extract from my writings below. I don’t think I could ever have had an experience like this any other way.

“…. I start feeling cold and start to shiver slightly. I get into bed. It doesn’t take long and I start to feel the descent. I’m breathing quickly. I’m twitching and shaking. Then I remember to relax my breathing, let it go, don’t fight it. Then all references and rationale disappear. The ego is gone. It’s just me.

Then I’m there. I’m in a cave. There is only enough illumination to see a few inches in front of me It’s not light, just faint illumination. Beyond the illumination it’s just blackness. Fear. Loneliness. Abandonment. No sense of direction or which way to move or face. No comprehension of what to do. There’s no-one out there. I’m reaching out in the darkness but there’s only emptiness. There’s no-one there. I’m alone. Totally alone. I don’t know what to say. I’m confused. Scared. There’s no comfort. There is no hope. The consciousness is beyond pain. Pain is physical. My cries and tears are physical. This isn’t pain. It’s more painful than pain. It’s utter despair. It’s utter anguish. It’s utter wretched hopelessness. This is my consciousness.

It was always you. You. You. You! Damn it! It was always you. I had to come to this wretched place to realise it was you. Come and get me! Come and help me! Come and comfort me! Get me out of here! I look up and can see in the distant dark a vague figure of a woman. I can’t see your face, but I know it’s you. I can’t get to you. There is too much darkness between us. There’s just too much. I don’t know how to get to you. I’m waiting for you to come and get me. I’m just here! Please don’t leave me here alone. How can I survive on my own like this, in a place like this? You put me here, you’re supposed to stay with me. Now you’re too far away.

Why is there no help? I’m confused. Scared. So scared. So alone. So alone. Who am I looking for? It feels like forever, frozen alone in the darkness, then I realise.

Yes, it’s you, my mother.

I don’t understand why. I can’t comprehend this here, alone in this cold darkness.

I can’t do anything about it. She is gone. She is gone forever. Never coming to get me. I will never see her face again. Her hands will never touch me ever again.

But now I know who you are. Now I know it’s you. It was always you.

I know you loved me. I know you did, I really do. I know it’s not your fault. But it hurts so much all the same. I’m sure you loved me. But it’s painful all the same.

All you have left me with is this pain.

Am I only this pain and despair? Is this all I am? Is this all I will be. But it’s all I know. I know nothing else. It’s who I am. How can I change it? I don’t know what to do. It runs so deep and black. There is just too much of it. I want there to be more than this pain and unfettered sobbing. Please, this can’t be all there is. I want to find where it ends, where it stops and something else starts. But there’s just too much of it. It’s all I know. It’s all there is. There is just too much of it. It’s all I will ever know. It’s all I can ever be.

I peer into the blackness. It’s an endless cave of unlit tunnels and openings. I know this is my pain. If I can fully explore and map it, and know everything that’s out there, then I can know where it ends. But it’s just so large. It’s just too big. I’m scared to go too far. I don’t know where it will take me. This is far enough. If I go any further I might not come back.

If I am not pain, who am I? If I am not hopelessness, who am I? If I am not despair who am I? It’s all I know. It’s all I am. I cease to exist without it.

But what about those that love me? They’ve given me all the tools I need to be more than pain and despair. Yes, I can see them laid out neatly at my feet. I just need to use them.

But I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do. They are foreign to me. They make no sense. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. If only I knew what to do. Why can’t anyone show me? Surely someone has the answer? I’m so frustrated. My fist and teeth clench in frustration because I don’t know how to do what I so want to do.

I’m so sorry to you all. I’m so so sorry. I’ve let you all down. I’ve failed. I’ve failed. I’ve failed.

I can see you all on the other side waiting for me, reaching out your hands for me. I can’t believe how patient you are. I don’t know if I can ever get there and be with you. I know you love me so much and wishing I could hurry up and figure it out. I am sorry to keep you waiting. I’m a failure. I’ve failed. I’m so sorry. I’m a total failure. Maybe you shouldn’t wait. I’m holding you all up. You’ve got your own problems and lives to move on with, I’m just a burden on you all, holding you back, dragging you down. Draining you with my failure. I’m too broken. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.

I’m so ashamed about all this. It’s all my fault. I’ve got the tools and I’m wasting them. But I just can’t figure out what to do with them. What they even are. If only I knew what to do.

But maybe I’ve been using them all this time and I didn’t even know it. I’ve gotten this far haven’t I? Yes, but it’s been so hard. I can’t keep doing it this hard. I’m scared I may slip back to that darkness forever. The place where there is no-one to help me no matter how much I cry. If I go there and stay, my pain will become everyone else’s to.

Here or there, I’m a burden. I don’t know what to do. I wish someone could give me the answer ….. “

Resources

Some informing links about psylocybin, the psychoactive compound found in psilocybin cubensis mushrooms, or more commonly known as magic mushrooms.

Prof Roland Griffiths is the lead researcher at John Hopkins in the USA. There are heaps of interviews and podcasts with him on Youtube talking about his psilocybin research. Maybe start with his Ted Talk which is only 15 min long. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81-v8ePXPd4&t=447s

Whilst it’s been a game changer for me, I’m not about to start evangelising to everyone to use psychadelics. Everyone is different but it seems there is some legitimate efficacy to their measured use that is being further substantiated in ongoing research.

Over the past 20 years, I’ve probably seen at least 10 different therapists in my life. I’m an intercountry adoptee from Vietnam to Australia, prior to the end of the Vietnam war. If you met me now, you might question my claim to seeing so many therapists. I am not the same person as I was 20 years ago. Back then, I was in the fog – I had no real idea of how being adopted impacted my life. I was raw, reactive, highly volatile, emotionally dead, a real go-getter with drive that most of my peers couldn’t fathom. Now, 20 years on, I’m more mellow and I’ve found my peace! Not that one ever arrives at some destination but I am certainly no longer living the inner turmoil I use to try and ignore. The journey to finding my real self, my identity in-between Australia and Vietnam, hasn’t been smooth or easy but it was certainly enabled by having the courage to see some amazing professionals and ask for their help and support.

I’ve seen these counsellors on and off over the years, depending on what the issues were. I’ve covered major life issues of relinquishment/abandonment, abuse and negative family dynamics that impacted my ability in intimate relationships. I’ve also had therapy to help me be a better parent and become aware of how my history impacts my style of parenting .

I certainly wasn’t raised in an adoptive family who saw “therapy” as a means of seeking help. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen my parents reach out for professional help – they will only go to a medical doctor if they are seriously seriously ill but often deal with health issues on their own, seeking natural remedies where possible. So in my adoptive family, seeking help was not the done thing. Perhaps that is a reflection of the era in which they were born? And perhaps my psychology training at university influenced my perspective – but I will say I learnt nothing about trauma in my psychology training! Not one subject on the impacts of childhood trauma in the 4 years of my undergraduate degree! I didn’t realise I had any “issues” until I noticed relationship difficulties and patterns, depression and self harm. I only saw the surface symptoms I exhibited with no clue as to what was underlying.

The therapists I have seen, range in qualifications from counsellor, psychologist, psychotherapist to psychiatrist and what I’ve learnt, I’d like to share because I know in speaking to other intercountry adoptees, it’s not easy to find one that works for you! Some adoptees might wonder what therapy is all about and have no faith it will actually help them. Some might have been once and found it so uncomfortable they don’t want to go again. So here are the things I’ve learnt along the way that might help in case you’re considering therapy for the first time or again.

The first thing I had to learn was to ask myself: Do I need help? Am I going around in circles repeating the same cycles? Do I feel like my reactions are outside my control? Am I overreacting to things (being triggered) and not understanding why? If so, a professional trained in the area of my difficulty might be a great idea.

After some years of undergoing therapy, I realised I should approach therapists a bit like a job interview. I found there is value in “first assessing the therapist” (preferably over the phone or face to face) to see whether they have the right skill set and personality to fit with me and the issues I want to deal with. Don’t just see the first therapist you stumble upon. There is no point seeing a therapist for relationship issues if they have no speciality training in relationships — and there is much to be said for seeing a female “mother-figure” therapist for abandonment mother issues. I learnt to ask whether my therapist had speciality training in “trauma”, have a chat to them over the phone for free first to get a feel for whether I’d be comfortable sharing with them. If so, I would then usually try for one or two sessions first and see whether there is a good “fit”.

After going to a few therapists, I learnt not to blindly continue seeing them just because they are considered an “expert”. I learnt over time to check my gut feeling on whether there was a good “connection” with my therapist. The therapeutic relationship works because we learn to develop a trusting relationship with them – they become the other significant person whom we work out our complex issues on. We transfer our issues onto them instead of playing out these issues in real life with unsuspecting and untrained people. The therapy won’t be effective if we have no trust or connection with the therapist. So like with any other “professional” whom you seek expert help from, check their credentials, check that they act professionally towards you at all times, check that they have safe and appropriate boundaries, and ask around from people you trust (your adoptee peer group) as to whom they found as good and effective therapists.

Unfortunately, if you are like me, my most turbulent years were also at the time when I was not financially stable. That meant, I usually couldn’t afford the high fees. Therapy is not cheap (rarely free) and excellent therapists usually have long wait lists and higher fees. I did learn to ask for a fee based on a sliding scale of income. This meant I could afford the same therapist as someone earning a full professional income.

I also learnt there are different methods of therapy. In the beginning I knew only of the traditional “talking” or “cognitive” therapy: commonly we think of Freudian days, sitting on a couch speaking about what we have going on in our heads. But over time, I came to realise talking therapy was limited and didn’t really help me to change the patterns I was living. Yes, I could now identify the issues and patterns, but changing them was something else. I eventually stumbled upon “body” therapy modalities and found this to be much more effective in changing persisent patterns and helping me to reconnect within myself. Once I did this type of therapy, I was no longer split between my mind/head and my body/feelings. I was able to re-integrate my sense of self and I felt a sense of harmony within.

The final point I will make, is I learnt that the type of “qualification” of the therapist was almost irrelevant as long as they had qualifications, training and experience. What I mean is, don’t assume a psychiatrist is going to be better than a psychologist or counsellor. They each have their own area of speciality training – a psychiatrist is medically focused so very essential if you also suffer from a mental illness and need prescription drugs. A psychologist also has years of academic training and a psychotherapist and counsellor has various routes to become trained so often I found this attracts more “mature aged” people with lived experience compared to those who enter university and come straight out with little life experience but loads of academic knowledge. My point is, don’t get hung up on what “qualifications” they have but more importantly, ask at the beginning what their approach, style and experience is and give it a try for a couple of sessions. You’ll quickly know whether this is the right fit for you or not.

I’ve recently shared at ICAVs private facebook group (for intercountry & transracial adoptees only) and our ICAV Newsboard (open for the public), a great link that lists adoptee therapists in the USA from one of our intercountry adoptee therapists. Wouldn’t it be awesome to see that replicated around the world! Nobody knows best what our journey is like and how to support it, than those who walk it!

In ICAV and amongst adoptee led groups, part of the benefit of connecting together is that we can share via word of mouth about who the awesome therapists are and the many other amazing modes of healing. I’d love to hear from you as to what works. Please feel free to comment!